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Our visit with Diego Garcia (and his record collection) continues this Thursday:
The Education of Diego | Part 4: “The Sound, Sandro, and the Cello”
Back to Matisse:
“You must, when the time comes, change course, search for something new.“
So for the last four years I’ve been following my instincts in search for a new sound.
A sound that could properly deliver my message on love, or I should say the malady of love.
A sound only my story could tell.
Minor keys, cello, nylon guitars, light drums, and wooden tambourines would help create an environment for me to whisper the words into her ear…
“You will always live inside my heart in memories long after we’re apart. Even when my days are long and dark, you will always live inside my heart.” So with each new song, came a little healing, until eventually I started feeling “better.”
The irony is that as soon as I accepted closure, my heart opened up and the sound was born…
I was ready to love again.
A few records that helped along the way:
Sandro “Yo Te Amo” He passed away earlier this year while we where in the studio. It made everything a bit more real…
Serge Gainsbourg “Le Poinconeur Des Lilas”
Leonardo Favio “Fuiste Mia Un Verano”
"Creepshows."
You've attended them. You've been witness to musical meltdowns and horrific evenings. Yet, from the audience, you've been just a spectator.
The bands playing Yeah Gates' 'Spooktacular' on Sunday night at the Black Cat—America Hearts,The Cheniers, and Foul Swoops—have their own frightening tales to tell. Of their own on-stage nightmares. The shows that went hideously wrong. The gigs they'd never, ever want to relive.
These are their stories.
Today, it's The Cheniers' nightmares:
David Malitz | My old band played a show in Baltimore at a place called Charm City Art Space. The performance area is in this low-ceiling basement and it was all musty and dusty. The first song we played was one that I sang and I go up to the microphone and get shocked. Not a little zap, but a serious fucking SHOCK. I jumped back, approached again with trepidation. Same result.
I'm an idiot when it comes to technical stuff—every time my amp makes a crackling sound I'm convinced it's blown a tube, even though I barely know what a tube is—so I didn't know that the problem was that I wasn't "grounded" or some bullshit.
So for the entire song I keep thinking, "Oh, maybe it will get better" only to be stung each time. This happened about 10 times. We "grounded" everything after that but the next time one of my songs came up in the setlist I was too scared to go up to the microphone, like a mouse that gets shocked trying to eat a piece of cheese and eventually backs off.
John Masters | We decided to make a pit stop at a certain "gentlemen's club" in Atlanta after a Stamen & Pistils show back in 2007. The friend we were staying with spent a little too much time in the champagne room and insisted on driving us home on the freeway. He started passing out at the wheel and we swerved entirely off the road numerous times as we all screamed in terror.
Once we convinced him to let one of us drive, we got him back home to the apartment where we were all staying. He sat in a chair drunkenly mumbling and made me laugh, and that's when he quickly changed demeanor. "Is this guy making fun of me?" he asked everyone. "I'm gonna kick his ass." Aware of the fact the guy was about 15 times the size of skinny indie rock frame, I fled to my cot until he passed out—needless to say I didn't sleep well that night.
Ben Vivari | The scariest shows are always the first shows, right? An old band I was in, our first gig was at the probably-now-closed Vault in Baltimore. We were barely a band - we had two guitars, drums, no bass ... and we had never even heard of the other bands we were playing with, and outside of a few friends knew hardly anyone in the crowd. In the end we got through it with no major disasters but it was a stupid environment to play our first show and probably was the scariest - though far from worst - show we ever played.
It's our Thursday flashback, culled from the rare and (ultra) obscure crates of 80’s vinyl, curated by our pal Gil:
The Flex - From The Vacuum The Flex was an alternative indie rock band with three core members. They were founded and operated out of Chicago, IL. The group enlisted session assistance from seven other members, who supported on saxophone, guitars, and vocals.
Overall, the band sticks with the alternative rock formula that was very prevalent during the mid 80’s with such bands as Husker Du, The Replacements, The Pixies, and many more. There are times where The Flex trio push the boundaries and create a roaring hybrid of punk pop, which ended up becoming a popular off shoot genre in its own right. With song titles such as "Drunken Aerobics," one can see that they have their creativity genes intact.
The Flex spent a few years traversing the Chicago alternative underground scene and never reached the critical acclaim as their mainstream compatriots, however they didn’t feel the need to conform either. Thus you get a thirteen song album of uncompromising music that hasn’t lost any integrity or creative control due to major label meddling.
This lone album was recorded at The Pits in Rockford and independently released on Sonic Dinner Music. Check out the crawling excellence of "Sleeping Boys" in the song selection below.
It's Day #3 with our guest for the week, Diego Garcia:
The Education of Diego | Part 3: “Lolita, My Soul, and Mr. Walker”
Before moving on, I feel a need to address the second Elefant album The Black Magic Show. I have a hard time going back on this one, given the simple reason, “I simply was not there.”
Listening back to that record I hear someone else.
A product of late nights, neon signs, reckless abandon, and loneliness…
The innocence was gone.
My heart was on empty.
And the recording reflects this…
Just check out the video shot to the lead single “Lolita” which was shot in NYC at the legendary Chelsea Hotel.
I want to stress that I am in no way knocking the album.
It was what it was: an honest extension of my life at that time. More importantly, of where the band was at that time.
I am very proud of it for that reason.
Now, imagine reliving this record every night on stage?
I was out of my mind…
In fact, I broke my foot touring the album. More specifically, I fractured my “soul” which in retrospect was the ultimate sign:
It was time to write a record that only my story could tell and that sounded like nothing else… I'll leave you with one of the greatest songs on love/life before picking up again tomorrow.
Arlington, VA indie label Yeah Gates is bringing a decidedly non-spooky trifecta of bands to the Black Cat this coming Sunday night—America Hearts,The Cheniers, and Foul Swoops—on the spookiest night of the year: Halloween.
Sunday's 'Spooktacular' is also the 7" release party for the Hearts and Swoops, so we wanted to be certain this show is in your bag of treats for the weekend.
We've got all three bands with us for the balance of the week sharing some truly nightmarish and horrific stories from the road in a series we're calling "Creepshows." (Because I can't think of anything funnier.)
First up, the night's headliners, America Hearts:
Mark Cisneros | A Freegan House Show We were a little freaked out upon arrival and perhaps even genuinely scared when they told us how the ingredients of the food we were in the middle of eating, was procured. The show turned into a mini-Burning Man of sorts. Body piercings, dancing and lots of skin and sweat. Like a crusty-punk Woodstock, complete with bare, muddy feet. All in the living room. The same living room in which we had to sleep later that night. Great food and homemade booze though.
Justin Moyer | Tough Times? In 2002, I played a show in Cheb, Czech Republic. Cheb is the 'Wild West' of Czech. It belonged to Germany until WWII. After the armistice, it was given to the Soviets, and everyone who could fled. Those who remained were not exactly an economic elite. We played in what's best described as a Czech roadhouse.
Inside, there was no P.A. We sang and ran drum machines through our guitar amps. We played with a punk band that did goose steps and Heil-Hitler salutes. We couldn't figure out whether this was ironic.
The promoter had just gotten released from Czech prison. He had served 7 years for possession of marijuana. We stayed at his house after the show and he grabbed our keyboardist and tried to pull his pants down. Luckily, he was handsome.
Jess Matthews | Southern Scales There was a really weird house show in Little Rock. It was the middle of the week and everyone at the party was wearing 80s glam rock face paint. The house had pet tarantulas in a tank, but some of the shells the spiders had shed were lying around looking like fully formed or crushed spiders.
Beforehand, we went to a nearby drive through beer distributor. It was a small, dingy building and it was hard to get the van around the corner to the drive up window. When we got to the window there was just a long set of fingernails coming out of a hand that was wrapping on the counter. We waited and waited. We asked for PBR, but the nails didn’t respond. When the woman finally appeared in the window she said, “I’m sorry. You know, I was just here looking at men on the Internet again.”
Mike Tasevoli | Nightmare on U Street I can't think of any gig-related spookiness, but last year I was having a re-occurring nightmare about being trapped in the Velvet Lounge for eternity.
"As we drive past the bayous and bays of the south, a lot of good tunes come to mind, as well as inspiration for new ones. Despite the fact I am on the road as I write this, my vinyl collection amasses. At the moment we are whizzing through Pensacola. Thrift stores along the way carry these priceless discs of black for less than $1, and the gum chewing, child-rearing clerks have no clue what they are parting with. They take my money and recognize me for the garbage collector that I am. I tuck them away in the truck, behind amplifiers and guitar cases, under boxes of merchandise and next to notebooks of lyrics and songs ideas. They hide there in the dark corners chatting with each other about gear and venues and chord changes. When I get home in a couple weeks we will all move into my studio apartment, and they will share a room with the other songs resting in their cardboard sleeping bags.
Just crossed into Alabama. The sound and feel of vinyl can't be beat. If a new record that I want is available in vinyl, I will buy that first. My parents had a fantastic collection of records that traveled from our living room, to the basement, to my apartment, my car, storage units, and back to my apartment over the course of my life. I still use stolen milk crates to display them, but plans are in the works. The house in the clouds that I am currently building has 500 ft. high shelves with electric lifts and a 100-album record changer. There are a million speakers like mutant fly eyes around the rooms, and they sparkle in the night when the music plays. Galactic mobiles orbiting my crib.
The sun is getting big and low now, and it’s harder to drive west. I used to work at a record store that was slowly phasing out cassettes, it’s interesting how long it takes small towns to catch on to new technology, but why hurry? The music is the same and the technology always changes. That record store is now closed. We are passing a peaceful swampy river in Mississippi. Makes me want to buy a flat bottom fishing boat and an old radio to spend the day with. The sound of radio is right up there with vinyl for me. I will unapologetically say that right now most of the music on commercial radio is empty. It’s bleached and it’s bleaching me. I am a girl about interesting sounds and lyrics, about music that is living. Music with bones and bacteria, and fungus. Music that breathes and grows with you.
Welcome to Louisiana. Besides the sound of the vinyl it’s the size. A 12" record is a piece of music meat. But I can't take it fishing or on the road, it's music for the home, for getting intimate. We just arrived in New Orleans, our destination for the evening. When it comes down to it, vinyl, CD, cassette, radio, mp3, I just love the music and the song and the voice, the medium is just the pan it’s heated up in." —Angie Mattson
It's Day #2 with our guest for the week, Diego Garcia:
The Education of Diego | Part 2: “Elefant RIP 2001-2010, Mother Fuckers, and Matisse”
The vulnerability and sincerity in a song like “Plastic Jesus” combined with my best attempt to sing led to Elefant and our debut album, Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid.
I'll never forget hearing playback of my first vocal take to “Tonight Let's Dance.”
Or getting high from the hours spent on singing “Love.”
The bridge on “Sunlight.”
The past is a blur…
22.
When I think of Elefant, this is the record I identify with the most. And for those of you who care, we have 2 more in the vault I hope eventually see the light of day.
Before moving on, I'll leave you with a video a fan made for the song “Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid” cut to the footage of one of my favorite movies in the last few years “Let The Right One In.” I guess one can say that we were ahead of our time in regards to the whole vampire thing.
I thought I would add that Bowie’sHonky Dory album as my favorite record of his… why? Because were just getting to know each other and these kind of things are important. Go and listen to “Kooks” if you have any questions.
And one cannot leave out the self titled The Stooges debut when getting to know each other…
I had a cigarette with Scott Asheton, drummer for The Stooges, a few months ago in Los Angeles. I told him how covering the Stooges got me started. His reply: “Me too.”
Back to NYC. Back to where I am now. Staring out of my bedroom window as I take a break from writing this.
This quote I saw while visiting the Matisse exhibit at the MOMA comes to mind: “When you have achieved what you want in a certain area, when you have exploited the possibilities that lie in one direction, you must, when the time comes, change course, search for something new.”
I'll get into this tomorrow, but before I go, I'll leave you with Piero’sMi Viejo.
An artist I came across on one of my many trips to Argentina.
Released in 66, I believe.
This record took my hand and led me to where I am now, the eve of my debut record as Diego Garcia…
I have to credit Jon Sidel who delivers TVD's very own free form radio show/podcast, The Idelic Hour each Friday afternoon, for putting Diego Garcia on my radar.
I had been a fan of Elefant, Diego's previous band and their Mc5 meets Bowie and Suede leanings (where 90% of my musical tastes reside.) I wasn't aware though that he'd struck out on his own and in a wholly different direction.
Diego referenced Julio Iglesias to me as a marker for his new musical trajectories which at once seemed very appropriate upon hearing the tracks and at the same time a little limiting. Perhaps in tandem with the fresh material, it's the production behind his new recordings which wraps Diego in the warm blanket of an entire era—the romantic, pop sensibilities of the 1960's to be exact.
To my ears it's somewhat similar to what The Clientele have achieved, which makes that band such a personal favorite and what has kept Diego on constant play over the past few weeks.
We'll be hanging out with Diego over the coming days here at TVD, dipping into his new music and into the bands that inform his background and tastes.
The following is my take on a quote from Tarkovsky: “The purpose of music should be to help people live, even if it sometimes causes unhappiness.”
“Peel Slowly and See,” the box set by the Velvet Underground released in September of 1995, months before my 19th birthday, should have come with the following warning: These 5 records listened to all at once will mess your brain up and you will sound like the “Velvet Underground” when you make your first record.
Add a little Bowie, the Ramones, Stooges, some Beatles, The Smiths, Stones and you pretty much start getting it…
Any relevant artist today had to have gone through at least one of these bands.
And then there are the records with songs made just for me. Records that I owned the only copy of.
1. “Plastic Jesus” from The Flaming Lips' “Transmissions from the Satellite Heart.”
Fifteen when I first heard this record. And over the years I would play it on my guitar to anyone that might listen , and no matter how wasted or high I was, it always felt good.
Chapeau Mr. Wayne Coyne. You changed my life with your cover of “Plastic Jesus.”
2. “Weird Horses” from Teenage Fanclub's “Thirteen”
Around the same time I got into the Flaming Lips, I heard the track “Weird Horses” and had the same kind of reaction. Had to learn it. Saying “fucked up” in the opening of this song was always fun… immediately drew people in…
3. “The Strange Effect” by The Kinks' “The Songs We Sang for Auntie: BBC Sessions 1964-1977”
Important to note that I recently sang this song for Karl Lagerfeld at a dinner held in his honor… why is this important? I don’t know, but singing the line “you got this strange effect on me and I like it” to Karl while wearing a chef hat should not be left out….
Check out me and Zeke Zima from my new band playing it acoustically poolside in Miami a few months ago. Please note the mistake I make on the guitar at the 1:09 mark.
Goes to show a good song is really hard to mess up. Simplicity is key.
Maybe it was part of the discovery, or the vulnerable nature of the recordings that made these songs so special to me.
CMJ (and New York City for that matter) being what they are by nature—a whirl—forestalled Kitten's final day with us last week. But fear thee not, Chloe and the band tie it all up in a fine bow - today:
Hey TVD,
Chloe here again, couldn't bear to read another blog entry written by Chris with all his coffee references..what is this, baristas hour? Just kidding, he buys me coffee almost every dreadful morning and is probably going kick my ass when he reads this.
Anyways, I say dreadful but other than some rough mornings, this has really been amazing week, yesterday being one of the highlights.
I nearly peed my pants because I realized we were playing a show on the world famous Ludlow St. (see Julian Casablanca's "On Ludlow St...") we rolled on into Arlene's grocery and played a solid show. We felt good about it and, more importantly, got a great reaction from the crowd and promoters.
I said it before and I'll say it again. As soon as I'm 18, it's NY for me. I'd move here now but a few pesky little things like school and are parents getting in the way of a full on East Coast adventure. It's cliche but you can't beat NY for energy, food, diversity. The people (at least in Manhattan) dress better way than we do in LA.
Food. Yes, it's true the pizza is better. Yes, the street corner gyro's are amazing. Cannoli's, eclairs.... yup, yup.
Have you ever seen anybody with closed eyes and a fake smile, FAKE dance? A whole room of it is a trip. We were going to leave (the blind, corporate devotion of the event gave us the shivers) but we stayed on until the end. Free Amstel Light will make men do strange things.
After a few hours of wandering around the city, we all came back to the same place to start setting up our gear. Andy had a little trouble with the door man (let's be honest he had his fake ID confiscated by the bouncer at the Surfer Blood show) but it all worked out in the end. We played, in my opinion, one of the best sets ever, and as always, Chloe went a little crazy. She threw a keyboard at a few lucky audience members, climbed a pipe running across the ceiling and knocked down a drum mic, crash cymbal, and floor tom. All in all, Thursday was definitely on of the most rad we've had at CMJ.
Alright, so it's Chloe and I'm back. Thanks so much for having us TVD. It's always such an honor and a surprise when people we respect want to host our music and promote what we're doing.
I apologize for not posting on Friday but we were just incredibly busy with acoustic tapings and interviews (I realize that makes us sound sooooo much more important than we actually are) that I just ran out of energy and time.
Oh! and I got to hang out with one my closest friends Maddie! She just moved to NY a couple of months ago, so it was a treat grab Chinese, hit the Salvation Army and roll over to Top Shop. The only bummer about what I do is that I rarely get to hang with peeps my own age on the road. So shout out to Maddie Mackey!
I'm actually writing from sunny (believe it or not) London! We have three shows booked and a whole week to explore yet another exciting city. We're staying in Camden, strains of Morrissey - "Cooome baaack to Camden..." and I must say, that if we never quite make it to your car radio or greatest hits collection's that we're still blessed to have such an adventure through music.
If, by chance you're reading this from atop doubledecker in London, maybe we see you at the show. Otherwise, Until we meet at Madison Square Garden... —Chloe
It's our weekly Twitter #MusicMonday recap of the tracks from last week that the folks in the press offices and PR agencies want you to be hearing. We post—you decide.
One of the cool things about getting old is having a history. Rock n Roll has blanketed my past. It is impossible to take stock of time without giving every detail a musical context.
Sixteen years ago tomorrow, my daughter was born. She came out in a breathtaking moment. In an instant we were face to face listening to The Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” in a delivery room at Cedar Sinai Hospital in LA. It was an incredible moment - one I will never forget. It was sixteen years ago.
Sixteen, the age immortalized by the Chuck Berry classic, is this week’s Idelic Hour muse. I dare say it’s the age of first right of passage. Do you remember what you were listening to on your sweet sixteen? Adverts, Buzzcocks, MC5 and Sex Pistols? What do you think the kids are listening to tonight? Ariel Pink, Of Montreal, maybe a little LCD Soundsytem?
A few things come to mind when I think back on turning sixteen. Kids just wanna to have some fun. Kids wanna be free. They wanna look cool and be loved and not just by their fucking parents. My advice is don’t trade 16 for anything! In dedication to the spirit of sweet little sixteen is this weeks Idelic Hour: “16” The Idelic Hit of the Week: Fresh and Onlys - Waterfall (Mp3)
Still in NY. Yesterday was solid. We played our 2nd show of the week and killed it. A nice boost of confidence after blowing it the first time. Our set was better paced, I could hear myself! and the band really brought the noise. We had quite a few people come up to us and say that the show was "10X's" better. It's weird how the same songs, played the same way can have such a different effect from day to day. Oh well...
More importantly, the pizza! Went round the corner and had a couple of AMAZING slices of "pie." When you get to NYC everybody's always telling you about "the best pizza in the city" and it usually isn't. This was. What was called? Nora's? Not sure. Right around the corner form The Delancey on Clinton.
We had ordered our slices but the guy said he had a fresh gorgonzola and apple coming out of the oven so we waited and had that with a slice of sweet sausage and peppers and a side of meatballs. Yum! No joke, seriously delicious. The guy yelled at my manager when he asked for the parmigiana cheese.
"For what"? He scowled in the kind of thick NY accent that you only hear on TV. "To sprinkle on my slice". The guy looked at Chad and squinted his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He got a fresh block of cheese, grated it on top and looked Chad in the eyes. "Don't put spices on my pizza." Chad went to grab his slice but he yanked it back, "Whooaaa... it's not ready until I say." The guy pulled out a few basil leaves and sprinkled olive oil on top. "Now it's ready." Like I said, YUM.
Later on he came to our table and said that we were in for a treat. We were going to watch him "make the mozzarella". What we wanted to do was go back to the club and check out the Kids of 88, the New Zealand band that's doing a remix of one of our songs, but he wasn't asking. We went back and watched him melt curds of Mozzarella into a giant blob and tell us about how there's no real buffalo mozzarella in the U.S. and how that, in Italy it's illegal to call cheese Mozzarella unless it really is. He gave us a fresh glob and it tasted so good that maybe he's not crazy after all. But I think he might be.
Later, we ended up at Madison Square Garden to see the Phoenix/Dirty Projectors/Wavves show. Our friend from home (LA) was in town for one day and got us tickets and backstage passes. Jose made Daft Punks helmets for the new Tron movie and they liked them so much they asked him to do all their stuff from now on. Crazy coincidence that he was in town but really cool. Oh.... Daft Punk did a surprise appearance for the Phoenix encore, thus the connection.
Great show!!! Wavves were ok. Im a fan so that was cool. Dirty Projectors where really, really good. They're harmonies are amazing. I don't know how they even do it. They're melodies are so unique but they're able to make being beautifully weird sound so effortless. Phoenix was a big surprise, I knew a couple of songs but I didn't realize how big they where. To be honest, I thought that I was going to be bored and want to leave early but they really put an amazing show. Great lights, a ton of energy, the singer disappeared into the vast crowd a couple of times and would end up in the back or up in the nosebleeds. Crowdsurfing, Daft Punk... cool night.
We've go two shows today. One in the afternoon and one tonight. I definitely feel like I have a boost of inspiration and energy. They're going to be great.
It's our Thursday flashback, culled from the rare and (ultra) obscure crates of 80’s vinyl, curated by our pal Gil:
Poor Girls – The Poor Girls LP
Turning to more adventurous realms, we delve into the rare full length album by the Louisville, KY based alternative band - Poor Girls. The band was founded in 1982 and called themselves an artistic tribal collective of sorts. The genesis of the band consisted of four members that were augmented at times by other band members who would produce noises with pots, pans and kitchen chairs. A sax was incorporated from time to time as well.
Poor Girls would end up gaining local attention by playing the local beat club circuit. The band shared stages with groups as diverse as the quirky Violent Femmes and the hard-rocking UK Subs and Big Black. They ended up producing one cassette and this lone eight track studio album before breaking up in 1986.
The music on this 13 song affair is in one word primitive. Poor Girls use thick, densely layered arrangements of guitar, bass and drums to give motion to their thought provoking lyrics. Many of the songs exude ponderings on life and love, and are delivered in an avant-rock style. The bass guitar has a more audible role than in most alternative bands, and I find it similar to very early Cure tunes.
The album was independently pressed and comes with a blue colored lyric sheet, but apparently in an attempt to maintain an artful element, have printed them in a style that’s extremely difficult to follow…it can be done though. Without further adieu, I’ve selected some of the standout tracks to peruse and download below….enjoy this raw energy….
